Stan's Living Room: Life in South Park
by lizoftheinfinite
Summary: Four short drabbles/snapshots looking at the absolutely insane events that take place in South Park. Stan X Kyle. Older teen for language and Cartman.


**Four drabbles/snapshots of life in South Park. Each takes place in a different year during the boys' time in high school. Stan X Kyle. **

**Freshman year:**

"Hey, Stan?"

Stan looks up from his Algebra homework and watches his super best friend lift the curtain and peer out the window.

The scowl Kyle wears belongs to him alone. No one else has a scowl like that.

"What?" _If X + Y = -2 and X = 6, then Y = _

"Why are our parents rioting?"

Stan rests his head against the coffee room table. He closes his eyes and sighs into the lead-smeared paper in front of him.

"I can't believe they're overreacting_ this_ much about something _this_ stupid. They're seriously at it again?"

"Yeah. So . . .why this time?"

"Half the town thinks we're going to be taken over by gangs. The other half thinks we're oppressing our kids."

"And apparently they got out their machine guns. That explains all the blood I see out there." Kyle lets out a shaky breath.

"_Goddamn it_."

"Should we do something?"

He still has problems 8-13 left. He promised himself at the start of the year he'd get all As for his freshman year in high school.

On the other hand, if all the adults kill themselves rioting, he'll have to freaking _walk_ to school tomorrow.

He sighs and grabs his jacket. "Okay. Fine. Let's go."

When he opens the door he's confronted by screaming adults. Windows smash open. Flames eat at houses. The reek of alcohol hits his lungs and he almost gags at the fermented stench.

Kyle stands next to him and surveys the chaos in silence. He crosses his arms. His brow carries the furrow that forms whenever he's pissed off or thinking.

Finally, he says, "Stan?"

He knows what Kyle needs right now, the same thing Stan needs. They need everyone to shut up and just go on with their lives so the two of them can finish their stupid math homework.

Stan wants to put an arm around Kyle and hug him, but he doesn't because that'd be pretty freaking gay.

Instead, he bumps Kyle's shoulder with a fist.

"Yeah, Kyle?"

"I fucking hate this town."

And with that they head out into the fray.

**Sophomore Year:**

"Get off me, fatass!"

Stan would recognize the yell anywhere. He bounds down the stairs just in time to see Cartman sitting on Kyle's chest and slamming a fist into his face.

Stan tackles Cartman and the two teenagers roll over, scratching and biting (fighting like little kids again) and somehow Stan ends up on top of the larger boy. Kyle helps Stan pin him down because Cartman's still a hell of a lot larger than both of them put together.

"What the hell, Cartman?" Stan's breath comes way too fast. He forces himself to calm down, even though his blood burns beneath his skin. The house is dead silent but for the three of them. For a second, all he hears are the trio of pounding hearts.

"Side with kike first, of course, Stan," Cartman mocks. "Don't even want to hear my side of the story."

"_That you punched him, you fat bastard?" _Stan doesn't like the k-word any more than Kyle.

"Just get off me and I'll tell you what the jew-rat did."

Stan glowers down at him, then pulls Kyle to his feet. Cartman scrambles back, stands up, and dusts imaginary floor grime off his body.

"Kyle, what'd you do?"

"Nothing! We were playing video games while you did your homework and then I called him wimpy for loosing and-"

"You challenged me to a fight. We were just having fun, that's all."

Stan raises his eyebrows.

"Fuck if that's true. You just suddenly pinned me down." Kyle clenches his fists and half-stands in front of Stan.

Kyle's movement makes Stan realize he wants to beat Cartman to a bloody pulp _so badly_ that it hurts to keep his knees locked in place.

"Just get out of my house, Cartman. You can't just hit my best friend."

"Have fun with each other, fags." Cartman stalks out the door without a second glance.

Kyle kicks the door shut after him, his eyebrows still narrowed and his chest still heaving. He gives Stan a sharp glance.

"You know," Stan says mildly. "Because we just had a minor disagreement, this is somehow going to end up with Cartman taking over Canada, or something."

Kyle sighs. "Ten bucks says you're right."

"Let's go find some naive moron to bet with."

"Butters?"

"Precisely."

They walk out of the house with their arms thrown over each others' shoulders.

**Junior Year:**

"So I told her mom, 'If you don't let my girlfriend get an abortion I'll fucking kill you, bitch!'"

Stan sighs and opens the fridge to search for food. He has just walked home from football practice and his stomach aches from nauseating hunger.

"This is all your fault, you know."

Cartman shifts his weight to his right foot. "Look, it's not my fault Red didn't have any condoms on her-"

"No, fatass, it's still your own stupid fault!" Kyle yells from the living room. Kenny laughs in agreement then returns to their video game."

"Shut up, kahl!"

"_Still your fa-ault._"

Stan sighs again and snags a plate of cold pizza. He heads for the couch and starts eating it without even bothering to poison it with microwave-brand radiation. Kyle wrinkles his nose as he watches him chew, which makes Stan laugh and lean his back against him.

"This is serious, guys." Cartman's eyes are wide as he follows Stan into the living room. "I'm seventeen years old. I can't be a dad at seventeen."

"Should've thought that through." Kyle smirks and keeps fiddling with the joystick, even when Stan lets his head slip into Kyle's lap.

"I know you queermos won't ever have that problem, but this could seriously ruin my life."

"Whatever you say, Cartman." Stan yawns and doesn't even bother with the _we're not gay _rant.

Then, before Cartman can snap back another retort, everything starts to shake around them. Stan grabs at Kyle and Kenny grabs at Stan. The force of the earth's shudders tear them apart. The earth rumbles. Plaster falls on them.

Stan hears the groan right down to his soul. He tries to stand but can't balance and smacks into the carpet again. He sees Kyle, Cartman, and Kenny struggling for their feet.

Dishes smash, but he barely registers the noise. All he hears is the screaming of the earth and the moaning of the house.

Then the timbers give way. Wood crashes down upon him, buries him. He screams but he's lost under the weight, and _god_, everything aches. He feels something rough jammed against his arm. Wood crushes his ribs. He can't see out of his eyes because something sticky and hot leaks down his forehead and blurs his vision crimson. His breath comes in shallow pants, and he coughs when dust enters his windpipe.

"Stan? STAN?"

At first, the voice is distant. Then it increases as the owner of the voice moves closer. Debris shifts against Stan's skin. Then a strong, thin hand grabs his wrist and drags him out.

He comes up, coughing, on a sea of plaster and wood and debris. Dust coats his clothes and blood stains his skin. He hacks for a good two minutes. Kyle coughs next to him, groaning. After a few minutes, they recover enough to look at each other.

Stan's house is in ruins. The earthquake _shattered_ it. Only a few poles remain in place, trembling. A mountain of debris heaps up underneath them. Stan sits back on bits of ceiling. Far off, police sirens wail. He hears people screaming.

"Fuck," he mutters.

"Oh my god. It killed Kenny." Kyle points to the blond boy's body. A timber impales Kenny through the chest and against the remains of Stan's north wall. Gooey blood streams down the pole and coats Kenny's clothing. Stan has to turn away to keep the pizza down.

"Bastards," he mutters at no one.

He hears Cartman moaning under the pile, but can't quite bring himself to care. He looks back to Kyle. The other boy's brown eyes glare back defiantly.

"How much you want to bet," Stan croaks out, "That we're about to be involved in another ridiculous plot. The earthquake was a dues ex machina, and all of this was inflicted on us as the result of Cartman needing to convince his girlfriend's mom to let her get an abortion?"

"Dude," Kyle rasps. "Our lives are way too cool to be determined by a plot device that is a huge of a cop-out as dues ex machina."

"True." Stan holds out a hand. Kyle grabs it and they rise to their feet together. The debris under their feet shifts and they tumble out past the doorway and into the dusty grass.

**Senior Year:**

"Jesus Christ!"

Kyle huddles behind the couch and pulls his knees against his chest. Outside, Stan hears the screaming of the mob, the shouts of anger and racial slurs they hurl at Ike.

Stan slides down next to Kyle.

"Oh my god. What are we going to do?" Kyle starts to shake. "I can't believe this is happening - can't believe Cartman actually won - and god, now they're going to kill my little brother-"

"Shh," Stan frames Kyle's face with both hands. "It's gonna be okay, we'll take care of it, okay?"

"Jesus Christ, Stan, how could it be okay? That's my little brother out there!" Kyle starts to jump to his feet but Stan snags his wrist, yanks him back down, and kisses him.

Their lips press for two seconds. Two anguished seconds. Two _perfect _seconds.

Stan pulls back and glares at Kyle. "Calm down. We're not going to let your little brother die. We have to come up with a plan, can't just rush into things blindly, and don't you dare worry because I'm going to be with you the whole time, goddamn it!"

Kyle gulps down breath, but doesn't turn away. "Okay," he says.

"Okay what?"

"Okay, we'll think of a plan."

"Good. Now, we'll get out there and observe the situation, but we'll stay in the shadows, okay?"

They creep out the door. At the end of the street, Ike is being tied to a giant cross. Torchlight flickers off his face. He's only twelve years old and must be scared out of his goddamn mind, but somehow he doesn't scream, just squeezes his eyes shut as dozens of chanting adults surround him.

"Fuck," Stan says. "Okay, here's what we'll do. First we need to let that freaking leprechaun out of his cage."

Kyle nods, and closes his own eyes. Before Stan turns back into his house to get the leprechaun, Kyle grabs his hands.

"Huh?"

"Did you really . . . _kiss_ me?"

Stan stares at him for a few seconds. "Dude. Now is really not the time."

Kyle nods, takes a deep breath, and says, "Okay. Okay, let's do this."

**A/N:**

**I tried to capture the essence of South Park within this fic, and did my best to summarize all the different types on conflict we see on this show. I doubt I succeeded, but enjoy anyway. **

**See the little button that says **_**review? **_**Click on it. I know you want to. **

**-Liz out**


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